


Twelve Reasons Why

by dutiesofcare



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 05:17:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13675020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutiesofcare/pseuds/dutiesofcare
Summary: It's Valentine's day and the Twelfth Doctor comes up with twelve different ways to tell Clara how much he loves her.





	Twelve Reasons Why

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little thing written for Valentine's Day.
> 
> The song referred in this is The Way You Look Tonight, originally performed by Fred Astaire.

The calendar marked February 13th; Valentine’s day eve – yet another frivolous celebration date created by humans who had grown tired of their boring mundane lives. The Doctor despised those _stupid_ holidays so much; they couldn’t have at least made a celebratory day for more important matters, such as the day World War Seven ended and soldiers from different armies consolidated peace by hugging and singing, or the day _David Bowie_ had been born.

There was just one thing he despised further than that, however: seeing the sad look on Clara’s face when he refused to join on the silly rituals of her species, especially when she was always so eager to take part on his.

The Doctor always spent the night on her flat, curled next to her in bed. He had a habit of always hugging her from behind, cocooning her until – and after – she fell asleep. Eventually, he would end up dozing off as well, it was the better alternative than to simply stare at her while she unconsciously regained her energies, but he _always_ made sure to wake before her, just so she would believe he solely held her all night long.

That night, though, he didn’t allow himself to enjoy the peace and quietude of sleeping with her. Instead, we waited for her to slumber, planted a wet kiss on the back of her head and gently unwrapped her from his hold, bringing the covers closer to her body so she wouldn’t miss his presence.

The Doctor still couldn’t help himself but to watch her sleep for a little longer. Her chest gently rising, gently falling; her lips leaving a gap between one another, so the air could escape through them; one arm underneath her head, the other hugging her own torso. _God,_ he would never grow tired from simply feeding himself on the image of her.

As soon as he managed to kick himself out of his own daze, the Doctor walked away from her bedroom; the night had barely started, and he had _lots_ of work to do.

 _Everything for her_ , he thought with a smile stamped across his expression as he closed the door behind him.

* * *

 

Clara Oswald woke up with a strange sensation.

Although the drapes were still shut, there was a line of sunshine penetrating her room, enough to provide her all the insight to her surroundings she required. Clara squeezed her eyes in order to lose the blurry of her just awoken vision and manage to see the time marked in big bright red numbers in the standby clock.

She groaned against the pillow when she noticed the time; she was running _late._ Of course, long had it been since she had to worry about being right on time, given there was a _time machine_ at her disposal, but she would rather not make the machine like her _even less._

Not to mention there was also a very crossed Scottish alien man in charge of it who also didn’t much like being used for her missed daily duties.

And then, it hit her where that weird sensation was coming from. That same alien man wasn’t there by her side, just waiting for her to wake up so he could _complain_ about how she was wasting both their lives by sleeping. For the first time since she could remember, Clara had woken up alone in bed.

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, forcing herself to _understand_ he had more important things to do than to babysit her in her slumber; he was still the savior of words, for god’s sake. Before she could enter an existential crisis on how _unimportant_ and _insignificant_ she was to the universe, she got up on her feet, ready to start her day.

Clara followed with her routine. Went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth, fixed her hair and applied some makeup; spent a good five minutes of her life settling on some outfit – she decided to go with a black pantyhose, a blue jeans skirt, a sweater long enough to almost trespass the length of the skirt, stamped with a minimalist black cloud and a lighting bolt coming out of it, and black boots; checked her phone for new messages or calls.

That was when her eyes spotted the date and she smiled to herself. February 14th; _Valentine’s day._ Perhaps she could convince the Doctor to go out for dinner with her, were it on an 21st century earthly restaurant or any other spacey one of his choosing.

She checked her reflection on the mirror one last time before walking towards the exit of her room.

* * *

 

The moment Clara opened the door, she was sure she could have been _murdered,_ either by the scare she had or by the blow to the head from a hanging in the air bouquet.

She eyed the great set of white lilies cautiously, trying to understand how it was simply floating when there didn’t seem to be any wires holding it. It was then that she noticed a little card amidst the flowers. She carefully grabbed it, dreading to disturb the blossoms in the process, and read the note to herself through hushed words.

_I love you even though you hide yourself beneath all those layers of clothing and makeup; you’re already the most beautiful woman to ever walk this universe._

Her heart surely skipped a beat at the messy handwriting she knew so hell; _the Doctor’s handwriting._ Bringing the white card close to her chest, she looked sideways in search for him, but he didn’t seem to be anywhere in sight. She took a few steps ahead and felt a weird texture coming from underneath the sole of her shoes.

Clara look down and found several sparkly stones forming a path that she was supposed to follow. If she didn’t know better, she would have guessed they were all diamonds. Perhaps she _really_ didn’t know better.

Entering whatever pursue he had put her on, she paced a little further down the hall and soon came across a white hardcover book. There was yet another card attached to its cover.

_I love you and all the memories we’ve created together._

_PS: I hope you don’t mind that I’ve hacked your memories._

She opened on the first page and _understood_ ; it was a photo album from all their adventures across time and space, and he had hacked her mind to obtain all those pictures – and even his own, explaining the several shots of her throughout the pages. She also concluded he had hacked her phone to achieve the photos of the two of them together.

Clara swallowed in her cry. As emotional as she already was, something told her that she _still_ had a lot of to see.

Putting the album down to where she had found it, she carried on chasing the aisle of diamond rocks. She came to the end of the hall and found a note glued to the door frame.

_I love you and I don’t ever want to leave your side. And since you’re always bantering with me about how cramped your small flat always is with me and the TARDIS parked here, I’ve taken the liberty of making it bigger on the inside._

She returned her eyes to the living room and it was indeed bigger than the last time she had seen it. In fact, it looked incredibly empty, despite of all her furniture already there. At least they would be able to walk in there without worrying they might run their faces into a big blue phone booth.

The route took her to a stand leaned against the wall. There, it was laid a still-smelling-new book. Clara flickered through the pages and found out it was the first edition ever published of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice; it had even been autographed by her. She read the note in it.

_I love you even though you would easily ditch me for a long dead writer._

Clara chuckled, thinking to herself that it wouldn’t be exactly _cheating,_ since Jane Austen was on her list of five celebrities she was allowed to sleep with if she ever had the chance.

Next to the book, there were two tickets. They said they were the entrance for the biggest library in the universe, but they looked handmade in her opinion – she came to the conclusion she wouldn’t need actual tickets to enter the place. Underneath them, stood a card.

_I love you because you’re so curious about everything; you’re always seeking more knowledge and that makes you the cleverest person I know. Even cleverer than I am._

Her beam was only increasing by the second. She could only assume how much effort it had required him to openly admit she was better than him at something, _how much love he had for her._

Following the rail, she found herself wandering towards the dining table. She was surprised when she caught sight of a perfect smelling and looking soufflé sitting by the wooden surface. The upcoming card brought tears to her eyes that she was no longer able to keep inside.

 _I love you even though you can’t cook or bake even if we were_ starving _to death_. _Hence why I traveled back in your timestream and ordered a soufflé from your mother._

Her hands became slightly shaky as she held the piece of paper. Ever since she first met the Doctor, long before he even had this face of his, her greatest desire was to savor her mother’s soufflé one last time, for she hadn’t known it would be her _last time_ when her mother last baked her it.

And part of her couldn’t believe the Doctor had traveled to the past with the only purpose of granting her that wish.

Clara wiped away the wet trail the couple of tears that had escaped her eyes formed down her cheeks. She took a long breath and proceeded the path. A few inches away from the dessert, there were two keychains that fitted into one another like two pieces of a puzzle.

The bigger one – presumably his – said _I am weird,_ whilst the smaller one stated _I love weird._ She sniffed as she read the post-it.

_I love you because you accept me for who I am._

Although not only did she accept him for who he was, she also _loved_ him for who he was.

Clara paced towards the TV stand, where a stack of DVDs rested. So many classic movies; Singing in the Rain, Casablanca, Sophie’s Choice, Life is Beautiful and Dead Poets Society, not to mention the 2012 version of Les Misérables he had once _sworn_ he would never watch. She searched amidst them for a note.

_I love you, regardless of how you’re going to force me to watch all these silly movies with you and use my shoulder to cry on afterwards._

She let out a giggle, knowing very well how he would gladly welcome her into his embrace as they cuddled together in couch watching all those classics.

Adding the eighth card to the pile resting on the palm of her left hand, Clara stumbled to the ninth location. Sitting on the sofa, there were two sweaters. Although they matched in color and design, each had a different writing: _If lost return to Clara_ and _I am Clara._ She would make sure to wear those whenever they went out in public. The card stated:

_I love you so much that I can’t even bear the idea of getting lost from you._

The diamond trace descended from the couch and went up the coffee table. There stood a box crafted from recycled paper. Clara gently opened it and noticed the several brown-ish cards, each of them reading a location somewhere in the universe, alongside the coordinates to them. Beneath all of them, rested a white card.

_I love you, you’re the only person I want to see the universe with._

Clara quickly ran the back of her hand against the corner of her eye, before it leaked any more tears. _This was all too much,_ she didn’t know how much else she would be able to handle before the emotions overtook her – hadn’t they already.

The course then led her to the TARDIS. Hanging by its door, there was a board. In its center stood a stars map, and underneath it said _two became one_ , the writing matching the blue of the palette of the nightly sky. There was also a location printed beneath; the date and place of the moment she had accepted _him_ as her Doctor, sometime somewhere during a chilly evening in Glasgow. Against the wooden white frame was glued another note.

_I love you so much that the stars lit up when we first met. They still do, whenever I’m near you._

Hesitantly, Clara opened the door to the insides of the time machine. The moment she did, the sweet sound of guitar strings echoed through her ears, soon followed by a deep hoarse voice that sent shivers down her spine.

The Doctor sang, “ _Someday, when I'm awfully low, when the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you and the way you look tonight._

“ _Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm and your cheeks so soft, there is nothing for me but to love you and the way you look tonight._

_“With each word, your tenderness grows, tearing my fear apart. And that laugh wrinkles your nose, touches my foolish heart._

“ _Lovely, never ever change, keep that breathless charm, won’t you please arrange. Cause I love you, just the way you look tonight.”_

When he rose his eyes from the strings to Clara, he found her dropped to her knees right in front of him. There was no point in denying the tears that freely ran down her cheeks and his first instinct was to _panic._ Had he got it all wrong? Did she hate all those _stupid_ things he had done for her?

Battling with his own features, he concluded it was no longer safe to smile – like he had originally planned for once he was done playing.

Clara, however, wasn’t smiling with her lips; she was smiling with her _soul._ She held the twelfth and last note in the air, one that had before been stuck to the instrument, showing the writing to him.

_I love you because you’re you._

The Doctor put away his guitar and fell to his knees on the floor. He wanted to _touch her_ , but he was scared to do so. His mouth opened and closed several times before he finally managed to emit any vocables,                “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel sad.”

Showing her teeth, Clara shook her head sideways. She almost felt bad for how resentful his face then looked. “You didn’t. These are happy tears.”

He looked baffled, “Is there such a thing?”

She agreed with her head, unable to hold herself back any further. She threw herself onto him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, seizing the opportunity to hide her face by resting her chin on his shoulder pad. Prolonged breathes from her were easily heard by him. “Nobody has ever made me feel this special, this… loved. _I love you,_ Doctor.”

The Doctor snuggled her closer to him, so strongly, _so protectively,_ because he was holding his entire world in his arms; his entire life. “Then everybody else is a fool.”

Clara chuckled loudly, pulling away just enough to glance at his eyes. The only thing she saw in them was his love for her. “Thank you. For everything.”

Before he had the chance to respond, Clara desperately smashed her lips against his. Not in lust, but because she could no longer handle not being _one only_ with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback here or on twitter (dutiesofcare) is much appreciated :)


End file.
